


all you can give me, it's cold and it's empty

by voxofthevoid



Series: Forsaken Beloved [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom!Hannibal, Bottom!Will, But he’s still gonna suffer, Dubious Ethics, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, Hannigram - Freeform, I’m evil I’m sorry, M/M, Oral Sex, Top!Will, Unrequited Love, non-cannibalism AU, top!Hannibal, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's a mistake. </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>He and Will are many things; patient and doctor, colleagues, friends. That is all they should be. To pursue more would be to pave the way to the ruin of what they do have. </i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>~</p>
<p>In which love and lust collide disastrously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all you can give me, it's cold and it's empty

**Author's Note:**

> A shout out to Vic (lactobacille / verybadidea) for her wholehearted support encouragement while writing this. Thanks as always, luv. She also pointed out to me that the song **Every High Has A Come Down** by Anarbor, from which the title is taken, is perfect for this story. ;-)

It's a mistake. 

He and Will are many things; patient and doctor, colleagues, friends. That is all they should be. To pursue more would be to pave the way to the ruin of what they do have. 

And Hannibal knows it's a mistake even as he allows it to happen; even as he ravages Will's mouth and rocks against him in claiming thrusts, he _knows_. 

Even the surety of destruction has never truly stopped men from reaching for things they want and Hannibal is not surprised that he is the same. He is only human. And he has _wanted_ for so very long now. 

Will is perfect against him, hard and eager, lips red and wet and parted, head thrown back with eyes shut tight, and Hannibal doesn't know how he's supposed to even try to resist. 

They mold together perfectly and their coupling is fast and frantic, a thing of raging lust and unleashed hunger. He drives into Will with unwavering focus, holding him down and drinking in his gasps and whimpers. And Will is vocal and determined in his desire, his body and voice ceaselessly directing Hannibal- _harder, goddammit Hannibal, just fucking fuck me_ -, demanding to be pleasured. 

They don't last of course, both finishing with minutes of each other in spiraling waves of white hot ecstasy. They collapse to the bed in a tangled mess, Hannibal still buried inside Will, their mouths moving together lazily. Tired but calm after the unbridled ferocity of their coupling. He pulls out soon after, cleans himself and Will and tries not to think about how much he loves the vision of the younger man sprawled in his bed, sleepy and sated. 

They sleep and Hannibal holds Will through the night. 

In the morning, he wakes to an empty house. 

Downstairs, their dinner lies cold and neglected, an unsavory consequence of the blind passion that caught them unawares the night before. 

It's a mistake. But for the life of him, Hannibal can't regret it. 

(One day, he will wish he could.)  __

 

§

 

They don't talk about what happened. 

But it lingers, tainting every word, every look and every touch until the very air between them is heavy with unspoken things. 

It doesn't help that they end up seeing each other quite a lot that week, a new case prompting Jack Crawford to seek both their help. Hannibal finds himself straining to hear hidden undercurrents in Will's words and to read the profiler's usually impassive face for his thoughts. 

It happens innocuously enough. It's Thursday and they're in Jack's office, waiting for the man himself. Their eyes meet and Will's flash with a sliver of heat that sends a faint shudder through Hannibal. His breath leaves him in a rush and Will smiles. 

And Hannibal knows it's going to happen again. That's it's not a onetime thing they can blame on too much wine and proceed to forget. 

He spends Friday in a state of grim anticipation, subdued nerves distracting him from his patients merely because they're not Will. It's not fair to them but that knowledge does little to stop his gaze from furtively seeking out the time, counting the hours until Will's session. 

At first, it is uneventful though the tension is still there. They discuss the case, discuss Alana's continued insistence that Will stop doing field work- they even discuss the opera Hannibal attended a few days ago. They do not so much as hint at the subject that they both know is on their minds. 

There's only ten minutes left of the hour when the matter is broached and certainly not by Hannibal. 

"I think it's about time we address what we're both thinking about, wouldn't you agree, Hannibal?" 

Slowly, Hannibal turns from where he was rearranging the already perfectly arranged paraphernalia on his desk to face Will. The sight of him stuns Hannibal for a long moment. 

Will is watching with a faint quirk to his lips, blue eyes bright with a mischievous gleam fixed intently on Hannibal. His head is tilted back ever so slightly, baring his throat and accentuating the crafted line of his jaw. Hannibal tries and fails miserably to keep his eyes from wandering to the teasing flash of skin revealed by the popped first button of Will's shirt. 

The pose is blatantly, deliberately inviting and Hannibal can feel his mouth dry up at the view. 

As if he possibly needed any more incentive to want Will. 

"You want me," Will speaks as if reflecting Hannibal's thoughts. He nods even though he's sure that no response is needed. "And I want you. I don't see why we should deny ourselves." 

Hannibal shifts a little, fighting the extremely uncharacteristic urge to squirm under that penetrating stare. This is one conversation he would have preferred to have while sitting down. 

"What exactly are you proposing, Will?" He asks and is proud when his voice remains completely steady. 

But Will only smirks knowingly as if he can see right through Hannibal's apparent calm. He probably can. 

"Well, we're both consenting adults. I'm not officially your patient. There's nothing stopping us from having sex." 

Will doesn't explicitly state that he has no interest in a relationship but it's implied in his words and tone. Hannibal licks his lips and his token protest dies a tragic death when Will's eyes follow the motion with naked interest. 

"It might still damage my reputation if we're ever found out." It's not a rejection. Both of them are fully aware of Hannibal's decision. 

"But that's not going to stop you," Will purrs with a smile that is sharp enough to cut. He spreads his legs wider and beckons Hannibal with a small wave. "Now, come here." 

Hannibal goes to him. 

It feels like the most natural thing in the world to ease himself into Will's lap, bracing his hands on the leather armrests. He's greeted with a searing kiss, Will wasting no time in wrapping his arms around Hannibal and prying his lips open with a devious tongue. It's heated and more than a little frantic and Hannibal thinks he can get drunk on Will's taste, made all the more sweet by the suffocating tension of the previous week. 

He gets hard almost embarrassingly fast but Will moans in appreciation and attacks his mouth with renewed vigor, exorcising all else from Hannibal's mind except the stunning bolts pleasure skimming his skin and sinking down to his very bones. He's starving for air but unwilling to part with Will to breathe when a large hand cups his erection, a soft, teasing pressure through his slacks. Hannibal groans, the sound slipping past without permission, and breaks the kiss to press his mouth against Will's temple, smiling through his breathlessness. 

"I've been wanting this all week," he murmurs, voice made almost indistinct by the force of his need, "It was torture seeing you all the time and not being allowed to touch." 

Will answers with a brisk upward jerk of his hips, pressing the bulge in his pants to Hannibal's thigh with wanton desperation. Hannibal grinds against Will's hand, chasing the friction the man seems so intent denying him. Then abruptly, without warning, Will grabs him hard, rubbing the heel of his palm against Hannibal's cock without enough force to be a shade too rough. The harsh handling only serves to heighten the pleasure winding through his body and Hannibal throws back his head with a hissed curse, clenching his teeth when Will continues to rub and stroke, the thin barrier of smooth fabric doing nothing to detract from the intensity of it. 

If he were more rational and less lost to the carnality of the moment, Hannibal would feel reluctant to rut against his friend like the teenager he has not been in many, many years. But as matters stand, such concerns doesn't even cross his mind and Hannibal finishes like that, thrusting frenzied against Will's hand while the man sucks a burning bruise into his neck. 

Hannibal slumps down on Will with a final shudder, accepting the kiss pressed to his lips with a moan. He watches spellbound as Will raises the hand stained with Hannibal's come to his mouth, a pink tongue flicking out run along the tips of his fingers. Renewed arousal pools low in his gut at the undeniably erotic sight. 

Without a word, he moves off Will and down to the floor, settling on his knees and freeing Will's straining length from his pants with deft fingers. He flashes Will a quick grin, enjoys the widening of his blown eyes and swallows him down with gusto, his minimal gag reflex aiding the smooth slide of the swollen flesh down his throat. Will grips Hannibal's hair with both hands, not directing, merely holding. 

He works Will hard and fast with his mouth, pushing towards the edge with little mercy. He keeps his lips closed tight around Will's cock even when he warns him of his impending climax and eagerly drinks in everything Will has to offer, savoring the sharp tangy flavor. 

It is a long time before either of them moves and Hannibal feels a strange sense of peace leaning on the floor with his forehead resting on Will's knee. 

They don't speak in the aftermath but the silence is smooth and easy, unblemished by regret or apprehension. 

 

§

 

Their relationship does not change. It _evolves._

They're still doctor and not-patient, they're still colleagues, they still spend Friday evenings discussing glorified madmen and they still join their brilliant minds together to pour over cryptic evidence. The sex blends in seamlessly to it all, fitting in to their already overlapping lives with shocking ease. 

He has found Will to be utterly intriguing from their very first meeting but now it has grown into something of an addiction. It's never enough, each frantic fuck or hurried fumbling leaving Hannibal needing more with an intensity he has never before felt. It's exhilarating and rather terrifying. And he never wants it to end. 

Because Will is gorgeous in his pleasure, whether it's the strained twist of his face as he rides Hannibal to oblivion after a tense hour of therapy or the dazed look in his eyes when he slumps against the door of his empty classroom after Hannibal brings him off with his mouth or the calm self-assurance with which he bends Hannibal over his own dining table and fucks the breath out of him while whispering utter filth into his ear. 

The sheer beauty of him is so very mesmerizing.. 

_(He does not realize that he's falling. And he will not until it's too late and he's a broken heap on the ground.)_

 

§

 

It's not gentle. It will never be gentle. 

But it feels perfect. 

 

§

 

It takes over two months and a case in Delaware for Hannibal to realize the truth. 

Will calls him on a Wednesday and informs in a voice rich with frustration that he can't make it on Friday because of an out of state case. He estimates that he'll be back by Sunday. And that's that. 

He doesn't return by Sunday, a trail of new bodies snaring his time and attention. The first few days are normal for Hannibal even though there is an uncomfortable weight on his mind from time to time. But by the time a week has passed, he is well and truly vexed. 

He has no _right_ to miss Will. They're not lovers. Theirs is not a relationship, merely a convenient arrangement. He has no right to yearn so powerfully for the other man. 

And yet, Hannibal feels eerily adrift without Will. It's not the sex that he's missing- well, it's not just the sex- but everything about Will, from the somber tenor of his voice when they discuss cases to the faint crinkling in the corners of his eyes when he laughs to the calm confidence that often overtakes his awkward demeanor to the light in his eyes when he speaks of his pack... 

It's a tangible ache that throbs in time with his heartbeat. 

And when Hannibal finally stops lying to himself and acknowledges that he is in love with Will Graham, it is not a rush of happiness that he feels but a shock of cold dread. 

_(It was a mistake. It's still a mistake.)_

 

§

 

Will returns on Friday. 

It's late enough for the brisk knock on his door to surprise him but that specific rhythm is too familiar, as many other things about Will are, for Hannibal to be actually alarmed. He opens the door with a wide smile he can't suppress and has just enough time to take in electric blue eyes framed by dark, tousled curls before a pair of warm lips collide with his own, knocking Hannibal back a step with the force of the kiss. He throws the hand not gripping the door frame around Will on reflex, responding eagerly with a faint moan of relief. 

They break apart after a few heated seconds and Hannibal is too dazed by the suddenness of it to be even embarrassed by how hard his breathing has become or how his entire body is thrumming with anticipation. Will turns to slam the door closed and shrugs out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor. Hannibal doesn't have enough time to even mentally disapprove of the gesture before Will is on him again, pressing their bodies together in a hard clash as he kisses Hannibal like a starving man. 

Hannibal allows himself to be manhandled until his back is flush against the door, Will's body a solid wall keeping him caged securely against the sturdy wood. He gasps into Will's mouth when their erections rub together, both already half-hard, and slides his hands down the man's back to grab his ass in a firm grip. Will grins and throws back his head, resting his weight against the door while he grinds his hips to Hannibal's in rough circles, each moment of friction further hardening their cocks. 

"Fucking missed this," Will says, the words low and rough, sending heat rushing to Hannibal's groin. Yet, a significant part of him is more concerned with simply holding the man like this again, having him so near, feeling his heart beat through their clothes, tasting him on his tongue... drinking in his presence after what feels like years of absence instead of a mere week. 

And if he tries, he can imagine that Will feels the same, that he has come for more than just sex, that he has missed Hannibal as desperately as Hannibal has missed him. 

_I missed you. So much._

Then Will drives forward again, assaulting Hannibal's neck with a hungry mouth and the sweet fantasy scatters along with the rest of his thoughts. 

Their clothes join Will's discarded coat in increments, pried off their bodies in between hectic groping and rutting. Hannibal ends up propped up over Will's bare body stretched on the floor, lovingly littering his pale, perfect body with dark marks. Will grabs hold of his hair and yanks, pushing their mouths together almost brutally. 

"Oh god, fuck me," he seethes, sharp teeth nipping at Hannibal's lips. "Now. Fuck me now." 

If it were anyone else, Hannibal would've stopped then and there, would've insisted that they move this off the floor and into somewhere more appropriate. But he's ravenous for Will, his entire being screaming to be allowed just have him again, and so it's with no hesitation that he reaches down between their twined bodies to stroke Will's cock, gliding his fingers over his perineum and towards his opening in what's meant to be a quick caress only to stop short when he finds Will already slick, his rim wet with lube. 

"I prepared myself. On the way here." The words are whispered into Hannibal's ear with a sly grin and he groans helplessly, forehead resting against Will's chest as he struggles to contain the jarring shot of arousal that floods him at that revelation. He groans again, a string of curses in French escaping him, and Will laughs, a lovely, joyous sound that warms Hannibal all over. Will snares his jaw to press a quick kiss to his temple before sliding out from under Hannibal and raising himself on to his hands and knees. Hannibal's mouth goes dry at the sight. 

He wants this man to be _his_. He wants to keep him for the rest of his life. 

It's the most futile dream he's ever had. 

He fucks Will without restraint on the cold floor of his foyer, revels in the sounds torn out of them both, murmurs praises in an array of languages against Will's skin and tries to be contented that he can have at least this. 

 

§

 

He watches Will's lips curve into a rare, genuine smile, feels his own heart swell with adoration at the sight and knows that there's no hope left for him. 

 

§

 

He tries to stop once. He _tries._

It's hard to force the words out when he wants nothing more than to give in and forget the world, forget logic but he needs to say this now or he never will again. He gathers his nerve, fights the urge to arch into Will and says, "We should stop. This- this isn't good for us. It can't end well." 

Perhaps he should've chosen a better time because it's so hard to sound convincing when Will is so close, when his hands are unraveling Hannibal and his teeth is trailing a hot path down his neck, and the words come out weak and doubtful, more of a desperate plea than a sharp demand. 

Will raises his head from Hannibal's throat, lust and fire darkening eyes devoid of any warmth. He grins, teeth sharp and flashing, and that's all the answer Hannibal needs. 

Because it doesn't matter, he realizes. It doesn't matter because Will won't let him go and Hannibal is not strong enough- not in this, never in this- to tear himself away. 

"We're not going to stop," Will whispers and the kiss he presses to Hannibal's lips tastes like damnation. "Not until we burn out." 

_(They know they won't merely burn out. They will blaze like hellfire and end in bitter ash and smoke.)_

 

§

 

It's a distinct sort of agony to be so deeply in love with one who will never love you back, to find that your entire world revolves around someone who is deliberately oblivious to your devotion. 

The fact that Will desires him only serves to make it worse because that drives Hannibal to think of how easy this would be if he could do the same and be contented with mere physical entanglement. 

It's painful, every moment spent with Will. Every word, every look, every touch, every kiss sends bitter hurt rippling through Hannibal, reminding him of what he can't have. Will must know, maybe not the full intensity of Hannibal's sentiments but at least part of it. And his refusal to let Hannibal go is both worrying and reassuring in equal measures.

What they are doing to each other- what they are to each other- is not _healthy._

But they don't stop. 

 

§

 

Hannibal arches off the bed, pushing his torso against the solid cage of Will's body with a bit-off moan as he is opened up by zealous fingers, twisting and stretching him until he's writhing for more, wordless pleas torn from him with every breath. Will smiles, a hungry baring of teeth, and withdraws, leaving Hannibal cold and empty in his absence. He palms his cock, pressing his hand tight to the straining member, fighting the urge to rut and then Will is back upon him. He thrusts into Hannibal with a smooth stroke, burying himself to the hilt and swallowing Hannibal's answering cry with a fierce kiss. 

"Perfect. You feel fucking perfect," Will mumbles shakily, lips pressed to Hannibal's cheek while he struggles to control himself. Hannibal whimpers at the praise, spikes of pleasure running through him and he squirms against Will, a soundless demand for him to _move_. 

Will obeys with a ragged groan, pulling out of Hannibal to push back in, fucking him deep and slow, each thrust feeding the growing coil of pleasure in him. Hannibal digs his fingers into Will's back, relishing the feel of taut muscles shifting under his palm. He doesn't have words for how good this is, how much he loves having Will so close and connected to him, their bodies moving in tandem with sensual grace. 

Hannibal tips his head back and loses himself to the sensations, shutting off all thinking to just feel without the suffocating weight of his thoughts. It's a heady mess of skin, touch, taste and strong strokes of hard flesh and it's so freeing to simply let go, to enjoy Will without question or doubt. His mind is blank except for the intoxicating bliss. 

And maybe that's why, when Will changes the angle just so, his cock piercing Hannibal in a way that makes him see stars, he allows the fateful words to escape him, to slip past the numerous filters and barriers he's spent a lifetime creating and ring frightfully loud in the relative silence of the room. 

"God, _Will_ , I love y-" A hand clamps over his mouth, rough and hot, and Will doesn't even falter, just slams into Hannibal with newfound force, sliding as deep as he can go with unflinching brutality. Hannibal jerks against him, thrashing on the bed as the pleasure builds and builds and then he's coming, coating their stomachs with his essence, his raw scream muffled by the unyielding press of Will's hand over his mouth. 

Will doesn't pause, but his movements become more frenzied until he's erratically rutting into Hannibal with quiet gasps, face twisted into an expression that might pass for either pleasure or agony. His release explodes in a rush of heat inside Hannibal and Will sinks his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, not breaking skin but coming close as he rides out the waves of his orgasm. Hannibal endures it without complaint, still caught in the residual traces of his own climax. 

He very carefully does not think about the hand now lying slack over his lips and the reason why it's there. 

Will takes a few moments to recover and then he's leaving Hannibal, pulling out and tying off the condom without a glance in his direction. Hannibal mutely observes him for an instant, at a complete loss of words but makes his way to the bathroom once Will starts wiping himself with his worn undershirt. 

Inside, he cleans himself quickly, the actions swift and robotic. He feels blissfully numb for all of five minutes before reality reasserts itself. 

He just told Will that he loved him. Or rather, he tried to in a moment of pathetic vulnerability and was thwarted in a manner that left no doubt as to whether the other man was aware of what he was about to say. 

The sting of rejection, though expected, is no less sharp for it. There's a hollow ache in his chest, one that's threatening to choke him with unshed tears and he sags against the wall, taking deep breaths while allowing some of the coldness to seep from the tiles into him. It grounds him, not much but enough to let him walk outside with his head held high and his face a blank mask. 

Will is fully dressed and clearly waiting for Hannibal. For a long instant that seems to drag on for hours, he just looks at Hannibal, dark blue eyes devoid of any emotion. Hannibal resolutely bears the scrutiny. After some time, Will _smiles_ , his kiss-swollen mouth tilting up at the corners. 

Hannibal thinks that he's imagining the cruel tinge to that languid curl of lips. 

_(He isn't.)_

"I'll see you tomorrow, Hannibal." 

He is gone before Hannibal can protest. 

 

§

 

The next day, Will is there right in time for his appointment, with a smile on his face and poison on his tongue. 

They kiss and Hannibal shatters. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And there'll be a sequel. Eeep. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Comments and Kudos are love._


End file.
